


Gorgeous

by idioticintentions



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: I just wanted some shameless Loki poppin boners bc he can't not, M/M, Pining Loki, Pre-Thor (2011), Sibling Incest, Super brief between Loki and OMC, great liberties taken with Asgardian rites of passage, like just flirting, they are under age for half but don't do anything dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioticintentions/pseuds/idioticintentions
Summary: The five times Loki thought Thor was gorgeous and the one time Thor thought that of him.





	Gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the fic. All mistakes are my own. Unbeta'd and written with assistance of the Seven Deadly Zins.

###  **Glances over a text book**

Loki had been reading the same passage over and over again for what must have been fifteen minutes now. The words on the page do not rearrange themselves into any manner of sense no matter how hard he wills it. Thor, seated beside him, has already given up on his studying. His book is closed in his lap and his face is tilted towards the sun.

As they have gotten older, approaching their thirteenth year, the tutors have given them more freedom in the afternoon. It is meant to allow them time to think of their future. What will they do to become a man? What specialties shall they choose? What master will they dedicate themselves to?

Of course, the tutors still assign mountains of work, so that this free time is spent outside of the classroom but still artificially in class.

Loki and Thor had escaped to Idunn’s orchard. An hour, they had promised themselves, was what they would dedicate to study before joining with their friends at the river. The promise is harder to keep with the passing seconds.

It also doesn’t help that Thor is so distracting. He always has been loud--crashing into rooms with all the grace of an enraged bilgesnipe and speaking as if those in Vanir needed to hear his words as well. Now, in the orchard, seated and silent, he shouldn’t be so distracting, but Loki finds he is.

Maybe it’s the thoughts he can hear, although they sound like his own. Perhaps it’s the warmth of his brother beside him in the sticky summer heat, which is causing sweat to sprout along his brow. Or, and this is something Loki finds he loathes to entertain, Thor is distracting because he is simply there.

“Stop it.” Loki eventually says. He angrily turns a page in the book.

Thor blinks slowly. “What? I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Exactly,” Loki hisses. He picks up the discarded book in Thor’s lap and pushes it into his brother’s side. “We’re _both_ supposed to be reading, not just me. I’m tired of answering all the questions.”

“Even if I read, you _still_ answer the questions.” Thor whines.

Loki shoves the book in his side again.

“Fine,” Thor relents and he takes the book. His fingertips brush Loki’s and a shiver runs down his spine. Thor doesn’t appear to notice, but it’s all Loki can think of. That and how the sun highlights the sharp cut of Thor’s jaw. He thinks of running his fingertips along it.

“Read, or you’ll be stupid forever,” Loki says in a huff.

Thor looks at him, confused and annoyed. “I already said fine,” he says and turns to his book.

Loki can’t read. He can’t concentrate. Each time he tries, his eyes are being drawn inexorably back to his brother and his perfect jawline and stupid, distracting face.

Whatever Thor is going to study, Loki decides, he will not.

\--

###  **Sparring grounds. ( I think you mean mentally scarring grounds. )**

Loki decides to train his seidr in the twin disciplines of illusion and healing. The illusion he does because it is powerful. Illusion magic runs much deeper than casting up ethereal clones. There’s also creating hallucinations, digging deep for memories, and even mind control.

Healing he chose because Frigga insisted.

Thor and he had stood shoulder to shoulder in the throne room, their parents seated on the dais and the tutors of the land arrayed behind them. Thor announced his discipline to the surprise of absolutely no one--the art of war and diplomacy. Odin had smiled. Frigga gave a proud nod.

Then Loki had declared, at first, only the study in illusion magic and Odin frowned. The tutors also looked among themselves as if unsure if they had heard correctly. Frigga coughed into her hand. “And what else dear?” she had prompted.

The what else was healing because that was Frigga’s art and Loki found he still didn’t want to disappoint her. She had immediately taken him under her wing. She taught him some illusion magic, but healing, she had stressed, comes first.

His days had been unbearably long, studying two intensive subjects at once. But at least now, nearly a year later, he can tell larkspur from monkshood from a mile away.

Today, an odd warm day in autumn, he has taken the afternoon to himself. He may have given the excuse he was going to the sparring ground to do some first aid practice in order to take the hours. And, truthfully, he _is_ going to the sparring ground; he just has no plans to do first aid.

Rather, he wants to see Thor. The brother he only sees at dinner with tape across his knuckles and a bruise on one cheek or the other. The favorite son who eats as if his life depends on it and then leaves. Loki has seen very little of Thor and none of it in his new element of war.

Thor is in the ring, a wooden sword in his hand. Across from him is his teacher, Heimdall, whose eyes glint a fierce gold as he watches his student. Thor is tired, breath heaving, and it looks as if he might acquiesce. Loki curses his luck that he came at the end.

He leans against an oak tree. In summer and spring it provides shade for those sparring, but at the end of autumn, it is already mostly bare. Heimdall sees him then. Thor is quick to follow.

His brother smiles at the sight of him, then he drops the sword. When Heimdall begins to step away, Thor says, “No, I’m not done.”

Then Thor pulls his shirt over his head. It sticks with his sweat but eventually it’s off and tossed to the side of the ring. Loki does not see where it falls. He couldn’t hope to because his eyes are caught on the sight of his brother.

Training for a year has filled Thor out immensely, even the height he gained impossibly fast in the spring has been accommodated by thick muscle. Loki can even count his _abs_ from ten paces away and identify other muscle groups he’s been learning about. The trapezium, the deltoids, and the  massive, _massive_ biceps.

Thor gives him a quick smirk and Loki shuts his mouth so he’ll stop catching flies. Then Thor lunges back into the fight with Heimdall, hand to hand, and he is dextrous. While it’s clear Heimdall is giving Thor some advantage, it is also clear that Thor will one day be his match. His hits are unhesitating. His kicks are whip-sharp. And when he needs to roll to avoid a heavy swing, Thor always finds his feet.

Loki wants to keep watching, but another problem is drawing his attention away. His cock is filling and is warm against his thigh. Soon, it will be unmistakable that he has a hard on. Worse, it will be unmistakable he has a hard-on for his _brother_.

Ashamed, Loki slinks away and decides that next he’s going to press Frigga to teach him to teleport.

\--

###  **In the library.**

It is only two weeks later that Loki sees Thor again. He has been throwing himself into his studies, which served as a passable excuse to skip family dinners. He also made sure to be in the library rather than his rooms, lest Thor find him there in flagrante. Because, truthfully, Loki is very controlled but he is also thirteen and his cock has a mind of its own.

And on his cock’s mind is one person only, sweat-slicked and muscled: Thor.

He is also on Loki’s functioning brain. So much so that he is having trouble transcribing the Alfish text he was reading through. It is meant to tell him more about shadow-walking, but he keeps mistranslating so that is appears to be speaking of sleepwalking, which is decidedly less helpful.

He presses his face into his hands and groans. This is so unfair. Why can’t his body just get with the program and not get turned on by Thor? It’s entirely wrong and inappropriate and, worst of all, inconvenient. He has to catch himself during any study session from asking Frigga constantly about Thor. And he changes his route so that he doesn’t walk by the sparring grounds when going to the healing rooms.

It feels unending, this want. Loki has had crushes before. He thought Fandral was cute for a spell and hung on his every, flamboyant word. But that had passed in a few days when Loki firmly decided he did _not_ want to be the boyfriend of Fandral, Thor’s friend. In this case, with Thor, he has firmly decided ‘no’, but his body keeps begging him to say yes.

Someone sits down heavily beside him. Loki startles, having not heard their approach and at someone being so near. Not even his mother, whom he loves dearest of all, would do this. So it can only be one person. Of course it has to be Thor.

Loki keeps his eyes trained on the book on his lap and fights the rising flush that threatens to expose his earlier thoughts. His walking wet dream is sitting next to him. _Fuck fuck fuck._

Thor pokes him in the ribs. “Hey.”

Loki grunts.

Thor pokes him again. And again. And again.

Loki grabs his hands and turns towards him. He glowers at Thor. Thor glares back. “What?” Loki hisses.

“Stop ignoring me!”

It hits harder than a punch to the teeth. Loki physically flinches. He goes to retract his hand, releasing Thor, but his brother changes his grip. He captures Loki’s wrist. “I said to stop ignoring me. I know you’re skipping dinner just to avoid me.”

Loki tries to calm his heart. It’s making a rather good attempt at galloping out of his chest.

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m clearly studying.”

Thor grinds his teeth together. He lets go of Loki, but it’s like on the sparring ground two weeks ago. Thor isn’t backing down. He’s just gathering himself for another tactic.

Carefully, Loki closes his book, dog-earing the page he had been on. He wants to be mad at Thor for coming here to yell at him. He wants to say something rather choice in return, probably about how Loki is so much better thanks to his studying. But that want to pour salt in Thor’s clearly bleeding wound leaves when he looks back at his brother’s face.

He looks sad.

It burns Loki to see that and to know he is the one who did that. Doesn’t Thor know he does that to him? By being within reach but yet completely outside his grasp? Thor knows nothing of wanting and not being able to have. It makes Loki sad, too.

“Thor?” Loki asks. “What is it, really?”

“I saw you at the sparring grounds the other day. I know you saw me fighting and I know that’s why you left. Do you think I’m a terrible person because I like to fight? Am I just too stupid for you now? Just another, as you say, _empty-headed_ warrior?”

Loki feels thrown off. This is not what he had expected. Thor-- confident and self-assured Thor--was looking for his acceptance. “What?”

Thor can’t meet his eyes anymore. His lower lip quivers and his fists ball tight. Eventually, after an eternity of waiting, Thor looks at him. His eyes are hurt and angry. “Do you hate me?”

“No,” he says before he can think too much about it. “No, Thor, I don’t hate you. I never will.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Thor asks. His eyes are pleading. His hand comes up and he clasps Loki by the back of the neck. He forces their gazes to meet and Loki is swallowed by his brother’s emotions.

But not so taken that he cannot lie to protect himself. “I think seeing you at the sparring ground made me realize just how far apart we’ve become. And you were so absent this past year with me only seeing you at dinner. I only thought this might be what you want.”

“Loki, never,” Thor assures. “We shall make time for each other and still become men.”

Loki’s heart thuds in his chest. And he realizes that his cock is not responding, but a gush of warm emotions rushes through him all the same.

 _I love him_.

“We shall make time, then,” Loki says and nods. Thor happily pats him on the back. Then he turns to the book Loki has on his lap.

“So tell me, what are you reading?”

###  **The doctor is in**

They are seventeen. The mantle of manhood had come and passed. They earned their cloaks and their armors and set to work where they were needed. Thor has a group of warriors he takes with him to perform quests. Loki works with the court’s warlocks to keep the magic of Asgard humming. They still make time for each other, but the distance between them is widening.

Loki is making certain of that in his own way. A sorcerer in a warrior group is always coveted, but Thor does not know it yet. He barely grasps the basics of adventuring. He was trained in war and politicking; Loki hopes he will not despise him for keeping this bit to himself.

But Loki needs this distance. The ache and pull he feels whenever he is with Thor has become a constant. Even as the women he takes to bed curse him for being cold and distant, Loki has loved Thor wholly for four years. He imagines he may love him just the same for four centuries more.

It’s pitiful for someone determined to be ruthless in his ambition.

Today, though, Loki is anything but ruthless. He is in the healing rooms, carefully tending to a small girl’s scraped knee. Her father, a Svartalfar diplomat, is standing just behind her regarding his work as he cleans the blood away. “You know, I never imagined a prince of Asgard as a healer.” the Svartalfar says.

“Well, I suppose now you don’t have to imagine it since it is so.” Loki straightens and regards his handiwork. “It should be healed in a day or two. Put this on it each morning and night.” He hands the father a small container.

Their fingers touch and the Svartalfar doesn’t immediately take it. He holds his hand there, both of their fingers just touching, and his eyes are heavy on Loki’s face. “I didn’t mean any offence. Healing is very noble and you’re very deft with your hands.”

Loki releases the container so that the diplomat has no choice but to take it. The little girl, now free, takes off into the hall again. “You better go catch her before she falls again.” Loki says as he turns to wash his hands in the taps. He always smells like sage for days after his rotations in the healing rooms.

A hot breath brushes the back of his neck. Two dark hands rest on the counter on either side of him. “I have time to spare.”

Loki thinks for a moment. The forwardness he finds crude and unattractive. The Svartalfar himself, though, is quite attractive. He has sleek cheekbones and crystalline blue eyes. He is shorter than Loki would like, but maybe shorter is good. Maybe just different is good. He’s run out of tall, blond men at the brothels to fuck.

He turns around to express his conditional consent when the sight in the doorway stops him. Thor is there, half covered in blood and armor nearly torn from its stays. His hair is wild around his head. And his one hand is gripping the doorway very tightly. Loki thinks he may even hear a crack.

“Am I interrupting?” Thor asks with forced calm.

Loki raises an eyebrow at the Svartalfar. “Amit was just leaving. Again, night and day, apply the poultice.”

Amit can’t manage words. He only nods and sees himself out, being forced to slink by Thor since his brother refuses to move.

“I didn’t realize that was your type,” Thor says as he saunters in. He sits on the patient table before Loki can replace the paper. Loki frowns.

“And what is my type, oh brother of mine?”

Thor smirks as he rips off a piece of the paper and wipes himself with it. It comes off blood red. “You know, about a foot high, square, and at least a thousand pages.”

Loki rolls his eyes. Then, appalled at Thor’s lack of hygiene, he rips the paper from his hands. “If you’re hurt, let me clean you off properly and see to it. Otherwise, towell off whatever creature you ran in to in your own quarters.”

Thor leans in, conspiratorially, his breath hot on Loki’s skin. This close, Loki can also smell Thor’s seidr. Storms and gathering rains and tossed seas. He can taste the thunder as he breathes in.

“It was a bilgesnipe, full grown.” Thor pulls back to grin. “Isn’t that impressive?”

“Super duper,” Loki deadpans. Then he begins shooing Thor off his exam table. If he has to manhandle Thor and feel those muscles for himself, well, who is there to judge? They are so much firmer and larger than when they were thirteen. And Loki shudders to think what the bilgesnipe looked like after Thor was done with it. He shudders again when he thinks what Thor could do to him.

As Thor’s leaving, he interrupts Loki’s staring at his ass by turning to ask. “And you’re coming to the meadhall tonight? We’re celebrating!”

Loki gives a tight nod. “Of course.”

Thor leaves, grinning, and Loki thinks as fast as he can about Odin in a bikini. Heimdall eating a juicy fig. Anything to kill the boner that is popping up like he is thirteen all over again.

###  **Celebrations and Libations**

Loki debates much longer than necessary on what to wear to the celebrations. He knows the warriors wear their armor, but his armor is only the ceremonial kind. This leaves him with his day clothes or what he wears to diplomatic events.

Or, and here he turns to see a fitted leather shirt and matching, tailored pants that he keeps separate. He normally only wears his Seidr Order robes when performing work abroad, but a celebration should be enough of a to-do for him to wear it. Also, it makes his ass look great.

He forgoes the hooded cape that goes with the outfit and takes a moment to admire himself. Thor has grown into himself over the years, but Loki has as well. He is lightly muscled and his soft edges have sharpened into a strong chin and cheeks. He applies a little kohl around his eyes, telling himself firmly this primping is not for Thor’s benefit. But if it _were_ , it would only serve the oaf right. He has been making Loki weak in the knees for years. Perhaps it’s time Loki turns the tables.

When he arrives, most of the party is deep in their cups. Loki looks around at the warriors, carousing and gesturing wildly to convey some outlandish story. He quickly searches the crowd for one of his order or another sorcerer, but it would appear he is the only magic-user here.

Wonderful.

He sees Thor near the front of the room at the table of honor. His Warriors Three are assembled around him. Volstagg is pulling pieces off a boar and speaking with his mouth full. Fandral is off to the side, seducing a woman.

Thor is speaking to a woman with dark hair and armor that gleams the color of moonlight. He is smiling, describing something that involves a stabbing motion, and she is giggling like a schoolgirl. She looks vapid to Loki. Absolutely stupid and dull with her dark hair and broad shoulders and that little mole on her cheek.

In fact, this woman so ruins his mood that he decides he should leave. He’ll tell Thor there was an emergency in the healing rooms and had to go see to it. As he passes through the archway, he bumps into someone. Loki immediately recognizes Heimdall, Thor’s old teacher and the watcher of worlds.

“Where are you going?” Heimdall asks. He regards Loki’s outfit, “I wasn’t aware you were doing a mission.”

Loki sighs. “No. I had come to partake of the celebration, but I think all the others have already partook a little too much.”

Heimdall scans the room. Then his mouth quirks in a knowing smile and Loki finds the watchman almost as infuriating as that broad chatting up his brother.

“At least tell Thor you came by, I know he misses you,” Heimdall advises.

Loki glances back over his shoulder. The woman is still talking to Thor, but his brother is distracted. He is watching them, he and Heimdall in the archway. As he rises to come to them, the woman places a hand on his arm.

Loki sees red.

“I’m feeling rather unwell. Will you tell him for me?” Then he leaves, walking briskly, and feeling absolutely foolish.

\--

###  **The Sphinx Riddle**

Loki is still nursing his ego the next day. And a headache. For he had returned to his rooms, slammed the door, and then got completely blitzed on Alfish wine. If he cast an illusion of that stupid _woman_ and yelled at it, well no one needs to know.

Not even Loki because he hardly remembers anything past Thor’s sad, kicked puppy look when he left.

He is laying in bed, trying to will the ache of his head away and cursing the sun for being so bright, when a knock comes from his door. It’s not a page’s knock. It is too concussive for that. Then the door opens and Loki immediately knows who it is.

Thor bellows: “Good morning!”

Loki groans and burrows himself further into his pillows. “Would you shut up and leave,” he mutters. “And take the sun with you.”

“What was that?” Thor asks mockingly. He knows. Of course he knows. Loki is sure in his muzzy state he had left the empty decanter in plain view.

He prepares himself for the mockery as best as he can, but what he does not think to prepare himself for is Thor whipping off his blankets. Loki freezes as the air hits his skin, _all_ of his skin. As well as not putting the decanter in a  discreet place, he had also gotten completely nude before climbing into bed. He thanks the Norns he is lying on his stomach.

“Oh,” Thor says. Loki turns his head just enough to see his face. Thor’s face pinks so that even the tips of his ears are red and his eyes are staring. Loki wiggles trying to reach behind him for the blanket. Thor blinks back into motion and tosses it haphazardly over him.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Loki grouches. He carefully arranges himself to be sitting with the blanket on his lap. Thor is looking off towards the window.

“When we were twelve Loki and still bathed together, yes. But not recently,” Thor explains. Then he makes an abortive gesture, perhaps a shrug, perhaps not. “And you--uh--you’ve _grown_.”

Loki gives him a  dry look. “Is that your way of calling me fat?”

Thor laughs. “No. Norns no,” he looks at Loki again, eyes skimming over his body, and Loki could swear it feels hungry. “You’ve grown well. Strong.”

Loki smirks. “Well I always was the more attractive sibling. So, now, tell me why you’re disturbing me.”

“I’ve been told of a quest, by our friend Heimdall.”

“I thought you were just on a quest?”

Thor shrugs. “The work of a warrior never ends. And I need you for this one.”

“And who will come with us? Your warriors and that woman? What is her name?” Loki tries to keep the curiosity out of his voice and inject venom instead. But his headache only makes him sound grumpy.

“Lady Sif? Oh, she won’t be coming nor will the Warriors Three. It requires a--er--specialized hand,” Thor says. The last two words are clearly borrowed. Loki can guess from whom.

“Did Heimdall tell you of this quest?”

“He did.”

Loki sighs and falls back on to his pillows.

“When do we leave?”

“Today. The town is in a valley and a sphinx has taken up roost in its only pass in or out.”

He needs to see Voluspa about his headache before it splits his skull in half. “Afternoon?”

Thor is silent.

“Sooner?”

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly. This sounds like so much fun. And being alone with his brother sounds like a terrible idea. If yesterday was any indication, Loki seems to lose all control when in Thor’s vicinity. He really shouldn’t risk it.

But then Loki draws his hand from his face so that he can properly see his brother. He sees his earnest, pleading expression. It reminds him of their fourteenth year. Of the library and Thor begging him to not ignore him. Loki softens. “Fine, sooner. But let me get my head seen to, first.”

Thor gives him an infuriating smirk. “Will you tell me who the lucky lady is?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

\--

They set off just before noon.

Thor had been thoughtful enough to gather most of their supplies before ambushing Loki. Then, pocket space manipulation had turned Thor into an astounded five year old. Loki was able to put all their supplies into a bag the size of a coin purse. He put it under his cloak, onto his warlock uniform pants, and closed Thor’s mouth with his other hand. “Stop gaping, it’s unbecoming.”

Unburdened, they cross the Bifrost to Heimdall. He greets Thor warmly with a hug. For Loki, he shakes his hand but his look is knowing. Loki feels exposed beneath it. “Be careful,” he says  as he opens the bridge.

Then they are swept along in a rainbow haze to a Vanir town called Ystad.

To say it’s in a valley is rather generous. This town is in a hole between some very tall mountains. Rocks rise sheerly upwards on either side to dizzying heights. A waterfall rushes down the northern wall, which is the only reason anything grows in this place. The buildings are made of the surrounding stone and sit low and crowded in the southern side. To the southwest, like a fissure in bone, is the pass.

Thor is striding towards the pass immediately upon landing. Loki hurries to catch up. “I’m starting to doubt our information,” Loki says.

Something feels wrong. It feels sinister.

Thor waves him off. “It’s good. We got the valley. We got the town. And there,” he points to the dark scar in the earth, “is the pass that sphynx is in.” He shoots Loki an amused smirk, “Don’t tell me you’re scared little brother.”

“I’m not scared,” Loki says archly. It’s the magic, he realizes. The magic feels wrong. But Loki has never met a sphinx, so perhaps he’s just wrong.

They continue on in silence. Loki’s tension is tightening with each step but is loosening in almost equal measure. Thor is a steadying presence beside him. His self-assured stride and comfortable swing of his hammer speaks volumes to his prowess. Loki always heard Thor was good, but now he was starting to truly know it.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Thor comments after awhile.

“One of us needs to do the thinking.”

“Aye, better you than I,” Thor says with an amused lilt. His arm brushes Loki as they walk. He is inescapable. “So what are you thinking of?”

How strong you’ve become. How great you are and will be. How well you’ve come to deserve the title prince.

“What’s the farthest one can go into the woods?” Loki asks.

Thor cocks his head in thought. Loki watches him from the corner of his eye. Maybe he should be less selfish about his brother. He is stunning and he could hardly fault anyone for wanting him. After all these years, Loki’s own self hatred has exhausted itself. He wants. He knows, though, that he can never have.

“Well, through it,” Thor decides after a while, “by walking in a straight line, to the opposite end.”

Loki smiles and shakes his head. “No, my simple brother. That is not it.”

“So what is it?” Thor bumps into him. He gives Loki a brilliant smile. Loki is temporarily blinded by it, drawn into the magic of it. His eyes watch his brother’s lips and he has the strongest urge to kiss him. It would appear some of the wine is still in his system.

Loki shakes himself from the thrall.

“Halfway. That’s the farthest you can go _into_ the woods. “

Thor is watching his mouth as well. “Brilliant,” he commends but Loki gets the distinct feeling he is not talking about the answer.

A cry startles them from whatever it is they are caught in. They swing their gazes ahead to the pass as another scream, high and tortured, resonates from the narrow pass. Thor readies his hammer and Loki summons knives to his hands. “Stay behind me, brother,” Thor instructs and walks ahead.

Loki is more than happy to let Thor take the lead.

The walls are so high on either side of the pass that it is perpetual twilight in its rocky depths. Loki summons a witchlight that bounces above their head, a soft green luminescence that does little to dispel the eeriness of the situation. They had heard the cry twice but not again.

When they are halfway, Thor puts a hand up and Loki pauses. He stares into the darkness to see if any form looks unusual, but it is only loose rocks and sand. “What?” he whispers into Thor’s ear.

Thor points to something on the ground and then Loki sees it, a shadow. Thor swings his hammer in a high arc to their left. Loki drops back to avoid the follow through, but needn’t considering Thor connects. The creature that had been crouched above them goes sprawling into the narrow pass.

It is large, about the size of a small horse, and rises on scaled legs. It’s neck is thick with the mane of a lion and a tail rises behind it with an envenomed point. The worst of it, though, is its face. A beautiful woman stares at them with black eyes and fanged mouth.

Thor readies his hammer, lightning crackling and throwing the creature in stark relief. Thor takes the spare moment to say. “I thought sphinxes had wings.”

“That’s because that thing is a manticore.” Or, more plainly, a man-eater. Loki racks his brain for what he knows of these cruel creatures. Nearly unkillable. Eats men whole. But at least they can’t fly. Small blessings.

The manticore smiles with its too many teeth. “Aesir men. How lucky am I?”

Thor laughs. It booms off the walls. “Not lucky in the least. We are Asgardian warriors and we have come to end your terror.”

The manticore readies itself for another attack. “I’d like to see you try.”

Loki squeezes Thor’s arm. “Distract it,” he instructs. Then he’s gone. Thor has a moment to wonder at Loki before he is set upon by the beast. He knows distance is key with that tail behind it. The pass, though, makes it difficult. Each step back is dangerous. Every stone treacherous.

It snaps at his hammer as he swings it. It leers as he keeps moving. “Come, come, run like your friend or welcome me. Do not play at this.”

Thor flinches when he feels something hit his shoulder. He spares a glance and sees a shadow high above. It is in this moment of distraction that the manticore pounces, but it never lands. Thor does land, though, about ten meters off from where he had been standing.

He falls, unsteady, and brings Loki down with him. Then the world shakes and Thor knows what Loki did now. He brought part of the pass down. Heavy stones rain down, and they are far enough to avoid the boulders, but Thor knows how destruction works.

He quickly flips their positions so Loki is beneath him. He curls around his body protectively and feels the spray of rock against his back. Loki is heaving, breath short beneath him, and sweat is pouring from his brow. Scant centimeters away, Thor can see his flush even in the dim light and the glow of seidr still in his eyes.

The manticore screams as it dies. Then it is no more. “It is done,” Loki says. His breath fans over Thor’s chin and his power is scenting the air, and Thor has never wanted anyone more.

“My little brother, the manticore slayer,” Thor praises.

Loki glows.

\--

The people of Ystad throw them a feast of fish and mead. It is a small town, but everyone must come to the celebration because the town hall is overwhelmed with people. They are all giving their congratulations to the Asgardian warriors, shaking hands and touching armor and asking for tales.

Loki tires much faster than Thor and makes his excuses. The blissful quiet of their room is a great respite. He is so tired from using so much of his magic. Teleporting with someone as big as Thor had proven mind-numbingly difficult. Loki was worried he wouldn’t make it far enough and in time.

But they had. They had done it. He falls back on the bed, smiling stupidly, and so proud of himself. They make quite a team, don’t they? Maybe this is what they shall do. Fight side by side, forever.

The door opens and Loki doesn’t need to look up to know it is Thor. His loud steps as he crosses the room towards the bed Loki is laying on is indication enough.

“You’re smiling,” Thor comments as he seats himself on the side of the bed by Loki’s shoulder. He plants an arm on Loki’s otherside and leans over. He is all Loki can see now; his big brother, smiling proudly and touching his cheek. “You were amazing.”

“I know,” Loki says proudly. Thor strokes his thumb on his cheek, feeling the small dimple he hadn’t noticed until now. Loki smiles so rarely. “But you weren’t half bad yourself,” Loki allows, “You did see it first.”

“I love you,” Thor says.

Loki feels wrong-footed all of a sudden. And far too hopeful. “I love you, too,” he says but it comes out more like a question.

Thor stares at him a moment longer. Then his thumb stills and his hand slides back, his fingers glide into Loki’s hair to cradle his head. Then Thor is guiding his face and, unprompted, kisses him on the mouth.

It’s there and gone. Chaste. Quick. Unbearably sweet. Thor draws back, looks at Loki as if he hung the stars in the sky, then pats Loki’s cheek. He rises, but Loki grabs his wrist. He finds his hand is trembling. “Wait,” he calls. Thor stops and turns to look at him.

“For someone so smart, you aren’t very observant,” Thor says. “Heimdall noticed before you.”

“Noticed what?” Loki needs to hear the words. Even if he feels unbearably stupid having to ask.

Thor smiles and swings himself onto the bed. His knees are on either side of Loki’s hips and he plants his arms beside his head. He gets close, so close that Loki can taste the mead that lingers on Thor’s breath. “That I’m madly in love with my own brother.” He kisses Loki’s forehead. “And you’re in love with me.”

“And Heimdall’s okay with this?” Loki asks, voice wary. This feels like it’s building to either the best moment of his life or the worst.

Thor leans down to whisper in Loki’s ear. “He’s the one who had the idea to come here. To Vanir. To the land where the king and queen are brother and sister.”

Best moment of his life it is.

“So will you show me just how much you love me then, big brother?” Loki asks and accentuates it by running his hand down Thor’s side. “Or are you going to keep talking?”

“Talking was always more your thing than mine,” Thor agrees with a feral grin.

 

He captures his mouth in a kiss that speaks of years of yearning. It is tender and sweet, but so hungry that it steals Loki’s breath. They take their time exploring each other. Bodies so familiar once but now so foreign. Thor noses at the curve of Loki’s ribs. He tastes the dip of his navel. Loki meanwhile maps the new scars that transnavigate Thor’s back.

Loki magics their clothes away and Thor shivers at the power. His little brother. A big, bad sorcerer. Strong enough to take down a manticore.

“Thor,” Loki calls his name as Thor takes his pink, pretty cock into his mouth. Thor moans around him. He is hungry for him, so much so that  he feels he could eat his little brother raw. Watching him grow stronger but still so gentle with his healing. And his words, his voice; Thor knows his brother may lie but not even Idunn’s apples rival the sweetness of his voice.

Loki’s hips hitch up and Thor holds them to the bed. He presses his thumbs to the soft skin on Loki’s inner thighs. Then, Loki is pushing at his head. “Thor,” he warns, but Thor keeps on. He knows what is coming and welcomes it when his brother’s seed bursts into his mouth. Bitter, salty, but ultimately _Loki_ ; Thor moans as he swallows it down.

He raises himself up, licking his lips. Loki’s face is slack, a wry smile twisted on his lips, and his lids heavy as he watches Thor. “So there is a use for that mouth of yours,” Loki teases.

Thor smirks. “Oh, there’s much more than that.” He takes one of Loki’s legs over his shoulders, exposing his hole, and presses forward. His breath is warm where it ghosts along the rim. Loki’s breath stutters in his chest. “Shall I show you brother?” he asks.

Loki’s only response is a garbled moan.

As close to a yes as Thor would expect.

He eats Loki out as if he were a decadent dessert. He savors, with thick, broad strokes of his tongue.He mouths with his lips until the flesh is pink. Then, when it looks as if Thor has savored every inch, he dips his tongue within for more. Loki’s back arches as tight as a bowstring.

Thor may be a giving lover, but even he has his limits. Eventually, he pulls back, chasing the taste of Loki on his lips with his tongue, and asks his brother. “May I enter you?”

Loki has an arm thrown over his face. His fist is tight in the coverlet and a rivulet of sweat traces the shape of his breastbone. His breath is heavy when he answers. “Yes, Thor. Norns _yes_.”

While the trick of Loki magicking their clothes away had been arousing, Thor is now finding it an inconvenience. He clambers off the bed to get the oil. His cock is heavy between his legs, red and leaking. He looks back at Loki spread and waiting and _he wants_.

He’s wanted Loki before he knew one could want in such a way. He always wanted him at his side. He always wanted to be his closest friend. When Loki had locked himself away in his studies, Thor had worked so hard to become something his brother could appreciate; someone Loki could want again.

It would appear his hard work paid off. Thor smiles.

He returns to Loki, opening him on his fingers. Loki is a quiet lover but his head is thrown back, jaw clenched, and a low mewl escapes when Thor pulls his fingers out. Then Thor is entering, slowly, and he begins to understand how the Norns feel when they weave their tapestry. This is right. This is inevitable. This is _fate_.

Together, they set a deep, slow pace. Loki eventually peels his arm from his face and their eyes meet. Thor feels the love for his brother swell in him. He leans forward, taking his lips, and hopes to pour that feeling into it. Loki is warm and receptive, turning hungry as his second orgasm approaches. He twines around Thor like a vine, body sinuous as it pushes against his thrusts.

When they come, they come together. Each tasting the other’s name on their lips.

Exhausted, they lay side by side on the bed. This is where Thor is unsure; this is the part he was most worried about. He waits for Loki’s derision. For his excuse it was the heat of the moment. He waits and waits and waits, but the only thing Loki mutters is:

“I need a bath.”

Thor laughs and turns to place a kiss in his brother’s hair. Loki warms to him, and Thor finds his brother in his arms, and _this_ is what he has wanted more than anything. This is what he never even dared to hope for. “We’re going to need to teach Heimdall the difference between a Sphinx and Manticore,” Loki decides sleepily.

Thor pets his hair, pressing one more kiss before sleep comes for him as well. “We will brother. We will.”

And they will, a week later. When questioned why it took them so long to return to Asgard, they only spoke of the mistaken identity of the beast  and then the generosity of the saved peoples (‘ _We couldn’t just leave in the middle of a parade in our honor’)_. But Heimdall knows it had much more to do with the comfort of that bed.

And the source of Loki’s apparent limp.

**Author's Note:**

> Songspiration: Gorgeous by Taylor Swift
> 
> Fun fact, mythologically speaking sphinxes and manticores are cousins. Neither have scaled legs, though, so that was an artistic liberty.  
> I also took lots of liberty with Freya and Frey. I don't think they're married in myth, but it served my purpose to make Vanaheim more accepting of that sort of thing, so please excuse that. 
> 
> Leave a comment or a kudos or both! And you can find me on tumblr as idioticintentions


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